


Shattering Monotony

by SpiritChilde



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood Kink, Consenting monster fucking, Cutting, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), F/M, I just wanted to write smut for Michael, Tentacles, The Spiral, had to be me, monster fucking, someone had to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritChilde/pseuds/SpiritChilde
Summary: Having wandered into Michael's domain some time ago, you fully embrace the creature's occasion visits to your home, wondering why he hasn't killed you yet. Minor blood play, some good old fashioned monster fucking. Maybe theres some feelings??? I just wanted to write a self insert cause I couldn't find any and got WAY too invested. Enjoy.
Relationships: Michael/Reader, Michael/Self-insert, Spiral Michael/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 232





	Shattering Monotony

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fair warning Michael does use his claws in this. Nothing like...super terrible? Just some scratching and some blood. Nothing too terrible he does stab or gouge or anything super gory.

_ Shattering Monotony _

Work had been a nightmare. Hours on your feet, rushing back and forth between the cafe counter and coffee machines in an attempt to keep the morning rush and lunch rush at bay. You had taken solace in the fact that your coworkers who have to make food orders had things worse, but it was little comfort for the aching feet and fatigue that came upon heading home around five in the evening. For the most part, this was normal.  _ Everything was.  _ Your life was almost comically average--living in a small apartment, working in a cafe, walking home in the evening and taking the train partially back before stumbling up two flight of stairs and into the waiting solace of rest. The elevator was still broken after all. 

Most nights ended with you either reheating an evening meal or cooking something microwavable before collapsing on the sofa to watch some silly show before bed. Nine times out of ten, you fell asleep right there and woke up the next morning regretting it. Regardless, this too was normal. This process was followed like always, you returning home to quickly undress, eat, and then plop onto the couch with the heaviest sigh in the world. Sometimes the routine just...ate at you. It was incredibly boring, this life, the monotony of it all. Work, eat, sleep, repeat--sure, there were days out with friends, some small family gatherings, the occasional burst of excitement before the cycle began anew. But it didn’t stop the empty pit that came from returning home after hours of dealing with customers, burning your fingers on hot coffee and those aching feet.

You sighed, lying down on the couch without bothering to turn the TV on and letting out a light groan. Today had ended, but it would bleed right into the next day all the same--the only time you had off was the weekend, which didn’t bode well considering it was only Tuesday. The only thing that could be done was to simply grit your teeth and bear it, right? At least...that’s what you convinced yourself of, eyelids drifting shut against your will as the comfort of your sofa claimed you as a victim once more. Eight more hours of sleep, then your boring routine would begin again until something exciting came along.

And, as always, it did.

You didn’t know how long you slept. Nor did you remember shutting off all the lights, or turning up the heat in your apartment. Consciousness was returning in bleary bits and pieces, the eerie silence registering first with just the faintest ringing of your ears breaking it. Why was it so damn quiet? Even with the TV off there was a constant humming from the fridge, or the sound of neighbors arguing above. Neither made themselves known, and instead you found yourself straining to hear even anything at all as your resting body started shaking off the fatigue of sleep. As much as you hated it, getting up from the couch was a must to try and remove any risk of a hurt back in the morning. Motivation first--sleep later.

A groan left your lips with each movement of limbs, eyes trying to adjust to the dark as you practically peeled off from the couch and stood. Cellphone--where was your phone? It was so dark in here that you could barely make out the shape of your couch, where the little electronic was more than likely sitting. After patting around for it briefly you gave up, deciding to instead try and stumble your way to the bedroom and try not to fall on your face. Wasn’t like it was the first time. 

But as you shuffled forward in the dark, rubbing some sleep from your eyes in an attempt to see better, a strange feeling hung in the air. It was tangible--akin to the sensation of being watched or like... someone was standing in the dark. It brought forth a gentle shudder, air feeling like it was far too thick as it swirled into your lungs. You tried to shake it off as paranoia from waking up moments before, ignoring the chill that traveled up your spine and feeling along a nearby wall for some sort of light switch. Although upon finding one, it yielded zero results. You flipped it up and down, but the lights remained off and the room dark. In such an exhausted state, you paid it zero mind and merely sighed, stumbling along until finding that familiar doorway and falling forward onto cool bedsheets. 

You sighed again, not moving from that position for a few moments and trying to will yourself to relax. That feeling had not faded, that heaviness to the air like it was somehow making your ears ring. And with them staining so hard to catch any sort of sound, you never would have missed it.

The creaking of a floorboard. 

You felt your heart speed up, hand clutching lightly at the sheets as a few thoughts traveled through your head along with an almost instinctive fear or worry. That was definitely a footstep, and in your tired state a few bleary theories made themselves known. One was that it was possible an intruder--these apartment buildings weren’t the safest, and it wasn’t like it would be hard to pick a simple lock and wait for a single girl to return home and attack. Humans sucked like that--you hardly wanted to deal with some asshole breaking in and trying to hurt you. Dying like that would be...The very notion was enough to snap most of the fatigue away, making your breath speed up and palms grow a bit sweaty with fear. It was incredibly warmer than usual in your apartment, and this certainly didn’t help. You remained there for a moment, waiting for any other sound to announce the presence of another or else chalk it all up to imagination and try to sleep.

Oddly enough, it was the following, louder sound the made the fear drain away--the sound of sharp claws scraping lightly over your doorway.

You let out a soft breath, heartbeat speeding up with something other than fear as slow footsteps crossed the threshold of your room, approaching lightly from behind as that prickling feeling traveled up your spine. How had you not recognized this sensation before? These theatrics were nothing new, that was for certain. Your sleep addled mind forgot so much, probably because he had not visited you in so long--it was those lulls that made the reality of your life dull a little too much. The reality that your life was not exactly as normal as you thought it was. 

Not when you belonged to this creature. 

You didn’t even flinch as a hand far too large to be human curled under your neck, fingertips sharper than knives grazing the skin there before wrapping around your mouth. Far too warm, the skin rough like leather--he always felt so strange to the touch. The other hand dug into your bed as he curled himself over your prone form, blond ringlets draping over in a curtain as his haunting, breathy chuckle reverberated the air next to your ear. His voice sounded both light and sharp, soft and louder than it ever should--like turning up the volume of someone whispering until it made ones ears ring.

“ _ Can’t you even muster up a scream for me, pet?” _

You let out a light, tired sigh, not even bothering to peel your eyes open as a reply was murmured against his rough palm, “Try asking me nicely.”

The creature--who you had come to know as Michael-- laughed that eerie chuckle again, leaning ever closer and tightening his hold a bit. Another shudder traveled down your spine, but this was no longer fear. Excitement was pushing away the fatigue, somehow coupled with the most bizarre relief that this absurd creature was visiting you again. He had not shown his face for a couple weeks now, and you started wondering if Michael had grown bored, perhaps moved on. But that wasn’t in his nature, was it? No, this creature was far too possessive of things that he considered his, and after being pulled into his domain that first time, that’s exactly what you were.

It had been after a party with some friends. They had dragged you to an unfamiliar house for some festivities that you definitely didn’t feel comfortable with--they hadn’t been the best companions, having left you to wander alone trying to avoid men who did nothing but get under your skin.That wandering had led you to the second floor, and eventually to a strange yellow door at the end of a long hallway.  Little did you know...the door did not belong there.

After wandering in Michael’s domain for what felt like hours, staring at mirrors on all sides and observing the changing carpets and rugs...well. For whatever reason you hadn’t felt afraid. It had been something entirely new--the unknown! A brief respite from the boring cycle of life eating you alive, a place that was purely supernatural and outside any human explanations. Death did not scare you, nor did monsters or wandering alone. The idea of going crazy didn’t really scare you either--madness seemed to be a part of life, and having this experience wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the creature would have hoped.These things soon became clear to Michael as well, once he decided to stop playing the games he fed so heavily upon--you were not an easy meal. 

He had came down a dark corridor at you in his purely creature form--large, long hands with sharp fingers and a body tall and thin. Any other person might be horrified to see such a thing coming toward them, would have screamed and tried to run. But...logic was a painful companion. What could you have done? Where could you have gone? Maybe the threat of oncoming death activated a deadly calm in you, acceptance with zero way out. So you didn’t try to run, didn’t move, didn’t scream. Merely sat on the floor as this thing came at you faster than possible for such a gangling, hunched over creature. Honestly, this was a bit of a blessing in a way--after living such a boring, tiring life the idea of dying of normal occurrences or old age seemed terribly dreadful in comparison to dying at the hands of this creature. What a way to go.

He could have killed you then. Could have easily cut you down, eaten you, anything.  _ If  _ Michael was the Type to eat someone? Anyway...here you both were. Many months, many visits later.

Maybe it was your lack of fear that intrigued him? Maybe he was hoping someday the fear of madness would finally give him a meal out of you? Or maybe...he just liked playing games. Whatever the reason, you had strangely started looking forward to his little visits. 

You shifted slightly in his grasp, finally opening one eye to look at him looming over. His eyes were bright in the dark, inhuman and far too wide. There was definitely a glint of sharp teeth in a smile that was also far too wide as well. He clicked his tongue at your cheeky response, tapping one sharp finger on the side of your cheek in displeasure as he shifted his weight until those overly-long legs straddled your waist. Did his spine ever work normally? From what you could tell, it most certainly did not. Not that you minded.

“ _ One would think you have a death wish, cheeky thing,”  _ He hummed, hot air brushing the side of your face as he leaned closer again, “ _ I could crush your little skull so easily this way, you know. Just a flick of my wrist, and your life would be snuffed out forever.” _

You had heard this line before, no doubt. Surely any normal person would have been afraid, but you merely let out a low sound of agreement, rolling over and ignoring the sharp lines of his long digits as you faced him entirely.

“Have you decided then?” Your voice was muffled against his hand, eyes closing again as you yawned briefly, “You could easily drag me to your domain and eat me, right? Haven’t been there in a while. I missed trying to go to the bathroom and ending up in a hallway of mirrors.”

That impossibly wide grin seemed to get wider at your reply, his airy laugh vibrating through the apartment room.

“ _ Now what makes you think,”  _ He chuckled, sounding endlessly, gleefully amused, “ _ That you aren’t already there, pet?” _

You opened your mouth, ready to refute what he was saying and settle further into the bed. But it suddenly...no longer felt like a bed, and one solid blink of your eyes inexplicably opened to a bright, familiar hallway full of mirrors. Carpeted floors underneath, reflections on all sides and Michael looming over now fully illuminated. You should have known better to enter any doorway without checking to see if it was Michael’s first—damn your tired mind. You knew he was trying to make you feel as if madness was looming closer, but these little tricks had just become foreplay to something much greater.

Still, you gave him the satisfaction of a sigh, leaning your head back so his gangling hand now grasped your throat, “Damn you’re getting good at that. I was so comfortable.” 

“ _ You certainly don’t make my choices easy,”  _ He mused, tone sounding almost playful as his free hand slid one finger down your torso. Just enough to draw blood, the thin line beading immediately with deep, red droplets. You winced a bit, heartbeat increasing as he eyed the line hungrily, “ _ Most humans are reasonable, seeking to preserve their short existence on Earth a bit longer at the very least.” _

You shrugged at that, raising one foot to lightly press it against his torso. Was there a heartbeat in that strange chest? It was hard to tell.

“If I made things easy it would hardly be fun,” was your simplistic reply, “You should have visited sooner—I was starting to miss our little chats.”

And other things. But you wouldn’t say that.

He missed nothing, however. Those sharp eyes caught your own, mouth opening in a low chortle that would usually make ones skin crawl, “ _ I’m taking my time, silly little thing. You shouldn’t rush perfection.”  _

Technically you weren’t rushing anything, but the scars on your hips from the last few encounters with him sang in agreement. And want.  


“The age old question,” You hummed, getting yourself comfortable and idly playing with one of his blond ringlets, “is today the day Michael finally ends me?”

You weren’t being playful out of conviction, and he knew that. The chance at this creature could and would kill you was quite high, higher than anyone else would be comfortable with. But you...weren’t afraid of death, of dying. He could slice your throat to ribbons right now and you would accept it, wouldn’t fight. After months and months of this excitement, the breaks between monotony and routine...just getting to have this was a blessing. Hell, maybe you really  _ were  _ mad, and he was feeding on that. But that wasn’t really a fear to begin with.

Michael seemed bemused by this whole exchange, a low hum emerging from his throat with grinding, almost purr-like vibrations. Closer to a growl, maybe, if he could make such a noise.  When he finally spoke it sounded akin to an exasperated sigh, clicking his tongue as that hand on your throat finally lifted.

“ _ What a little masochist you are,”  _ He sighed slowly, enunciating in small lilts while dragging a long finger down the thin camisole and bralet covering your chest. Some of the fabric tore almost immediately, “ _ you could at least have the good graces to look frightened.” _

You felt far too bold for your own good, heartbeat thudding in your ears and feigning wide eyes and fear as you replied, “Maybe if you ask me nicely I’ll run and shout for help a little bit—would that please you, Michael?”

The creature leaned down toward your ear, claws scraping a long line in the carpet by your head. The sound made you shudder lightly, even more so when Michael mused in a low voice, “ _ Oh dear...if you only knew the things that pleased me, pet.” _

You could take several guesses.

Regardless, his words sent an odd thrill down your spine, one he surely did not miss. Those claws closed in on either side of your arms, dragging you closer until his entire form loomed over in a haunting manor. Christ, they really were huge—his fingers could wrap entirely around your waist and still touch. Which they did, a low, lilting chuckle punctuated by a  _ squeeze  _ that made your spine curl up in response. Any normal person may have been disgusted, maybe fearful of the turn this had taken. But neither emotion had ever been your reaction to touching him—nor was this the first time you had indulged.

“Easy with that,” You protested at the first initial tear of your top, watching as he raised that other hand to finish the job, “I just bought this one.”

As if he cared. The creature locked eyes with you, and almost deliberately did exactly what you were trying to prevent. You sighed softly, staring down in displeasure as Michael’s claws tore the camisole covering you completely down the front. Completely obliterated, like quite a few other articles of clothing he had gotten his long fingers on.

“ _ How...clumsy of me.”  _ Michael chortled, tone dripping with amusement and glee.

You reached up a hand, running it through his blond ringlets and giving a light tug. Despite his strange, monstrous form his hair was strangely soft—it felt far more human than the rest of him.

“I’m glad you seem to think I’m made of money,” Your tone was only slightly chiding, mostly filled with amusement as you squirmed in his grasp, “I’m sure you monsters don’t really have a need for money, but I—ack!”

You yelped when Michael flopped you over, face presses to the carpet and caging your body in with one hand. Before you could protest, his lanky form pressed against your back, almost like he was surrounding you on all sides with his head on one shoulder. The physical contact was almost dizzying for your touch-starved body, downright relieving as you let him hold you there as he so desired.

When he spoke, his tone was almost exasperated, punctuated with a low sigh as he drawled, “ _ Pet you talk FAR too much,”  _ Micheal almost sounded disappointed in you, hand sliding down to squeeze your waist with those sharp claws, “ _ You’re being terribly bratty today. Did my absence bother you?” _

Bratty AND needy it would seem. A smart human might be afraid of dying in this situation, but all you could feel was a warmth budding in your lower half, skin feeling far too warm and face flushed. Your reactions were really too honest. Worse because he was  _ right— _ the passing few weeks with him absent were dull and lonely, not that you wanted to admit that openly. Trying not to get attached to this strange relationship you and the creature shared was hard—if it was a relationship at all.

“M...maybe…” Your lie was weak at best, especially with those fingers tapping right against your navel in an almost leisurely fashion. That breathy, obviously aroused whisper was super revealing. 

Michael’s resounding laugh bounced down the corridor to places unknown, echoing far more than it should. You opened your mouth to say something cheeky, ears burning with indignation but whatever sound that was supposed to come out was cut off by the feeling of one claw sliding across your stomach, leaving a stinging line that was definitely going to bead with blood. What came out instead was a quiet, breathy moan that sounded weak and soft compared to his reverberating laughter from before. 

“ _ What was that, pet? I don’t think I heard you.”  _ Michael mused, his voice hot right by your left ear. He knew exactly what this did to you, enjoyed seeing your attitude dissolve into something far more desperate.

“M….Michael…” Your stuttered reply sounded weak even to your ears, less like chastising and more like a plea for more. All shame out the window it would seem.

The creature in question clicked his tongue, long fingers slipping carefully over the delicate cotton of your shorts and careful not to cut or tear this time. The pads of his fingers were rough, coming to sharp points as they trailed down to your increasingly obvious signs of arousal. These shorts sure were thin, huh? More so than you realized—his warm, elongated digits were practically stroking right against your flesh, a tremble traveling through your form as he found that spot and  _ pressed.  _

“F...fuck…fuck...” Your breathy voice was loud in the narrow hallway. The stinging sensation from where he scratched moments prior and the growing pressure on your clit were mind numbing.

Michael released a low, chiding hum, his mouth just barely grazing your ear as he murmured, “ _ Were you lonely those passing months? Just look at how  _ **_drenched—_ ** _ “  _ he punctuated that word with his elongated digit stroking over your clit through the shorts, wrangling a shakey whimper from your lungs, “— _ you are.” _

A shuddering breath passed from your lungs, barely managing to retain some dignity at all as you wriggled in his hold, “L...look who’s talk...talking...”

The movement brushed against his body, right against the slit you knew had his strange anatomy peeking out. One glance at the mirrors flanking you gave ample view to confirm the theory, breath catching at the sight of his cock hardening and sliding out. The skin was darker there, his appendage close to human without being quite that. With ridges underneath, accompanied by a writing mass of tentacles that coiled around it and reached for your clit. You shivered with anticipation, practically rutting against the hard appendage despite that little comment. Hard, warm...you knew what it would feel like. Micheal did too, an eerie hum of pleasure leaving his lips at the stimulus as his hand clamped down on your hips a little harder.

“ _ Easy now,”  _ He warned lightly, digging those claws into your hip until you were practically mewing at the pain, “ _ I did warn you pet...not to rush me didn’t I? Oh...but you do want me to hurt you, don’t you? You’re positively aching for me to tear you to ribbons.” _

You bit your tongue as his claws drew a little more blood, the sensation making both you and Michael breathe heavily in unison. What was there to deny? He knew you liked the pain.

Instead you decided not to beat around the bush any longer, shamelessly rutting against his cock until it was sliding against the barrier of your shorts. Each motion made your voice a little more needy, coming out in a breathy whimper, “Please...Pl...please I’m—I need this. I need you.”

“ _ Do you?”  _ Michael mused, his actions surprising you a bit. Part of you expected him to dig in deeper, those claws sinking into your delicate flesh in that delicious sensation of pain. But instead he eased back, fingers dancing up in a slow caress that had your back arching a bit. His face pressed closer, mouth against your neck in a slow line of kisses as he hummed something close to a chuckle at your reactions. It was far...far more tender than anything he usually did. He felt less like a monster about to cage you in and fuck you silly, and instead more like a romantic embrace.

It was a bit dizzying. Your lust-addled mind was enjoying it, but the need for release was far to high for his little games.

“ _ Michael.”  _ You ground out, eyes closing as you threaded your fingers with the bony ones of his hand. He squeezed back, the rough skin a strange contrast to the softness of your own.

But he merely let out one of his ethereal chuckles, high-pitched and right on the border of being manic. Mouth pressed to your neck, breath hot and fast paced as he replied, “ _ I told you sweet girl...I’m going to take my time with you. That is unless,”  _ He tapped one of his long finger tips against your lips, the small motion alone enough to draw a little blood. You moaned softly, shivering when his tongue slithered out to swipe the bead of red away and he breathed raggedly, “ _ You want to try asking nicely.” _

Damn him for taking the earlier words from your mouth. However, there was little room to be angry at this rate. All those days of loneliness and desperation had caught up, and your resolve was far more fragile than his. Any more back and forth and he might draw it out longer, make it torture. How strange that the idea of going slow and waiting was more painful than the thought of him cutting you to ribbons? 

_ Maybe I am going mad. _

“ _ Mmmm…”  _ Michael’s moan vibrated you to your very lungs, as if he somehow tasted your very thoughts and echoed them aloud, “ _ I wonder...maybe you’ve been mad from the very start, sweet girl.” _

You barely managed to quiet a hoarse cry as the tentacles coiling around his shaft slipped into your shorts, not hesitating to dip into that wet heat.  _ Oh god, oh fuck, oh christ-- _ It was exactly what you needed yet not enough. Your hips jerked into each touch, thighs trying to clench around the undulating appendages but to no avail. Through it all, Michael’s mouth kissed along your neck and jaw, a warm tongue sliding out to trace and touch while you whimpered desperately. Almost pathetically. 

“ _ Perhaps that is why I cannot kill you,”  _ He murmured, breath coming faster as he continued to stroke and tease below, “ _ The madness you carry is addicting, deliciously so. No one with a sane mind would submit to a creature like me, would they?” _

Probably not. But you didn’t care. He was touching you, a tendril rubbing wet circles over your clit as you whined shamelessly in response. Michael chuckled lightly, almost triumphantly, and reached those claws down to finally tear away your shorts and panties. There was no complaint, not anymore. Instead, you simply shuddered at the warm air on your folds, head bowing down and body straining to feel each and every touch. But it wasn’t enough—you wanted him to use you, to leave marks and draw blood. It had been many days since you last felt that pleasurable pain sensation, needed it to etch reality into your skin and chase away the monotony of your normal existence.

Michael seemed to sense your desire as always. Another hum left his throat, somehow louder than it should be as one of his clawed hands lifted to your chest. Very deliberately, he drew two claws down between your breasts, the blossoming pain of it making you choke back a heady moan and body bow against his. Deeper than the last cuts, a few drops of blood pattering onto the floor. Michael’s presence seemed to fill the space now, the air vibrating like static and surrounding you on all sides. He was enjoying this, there was no doubting that.

He lifted those bloody claws to his mouth, tasting your essence as his tentacles pressed harder, a sob of pleasure breaking from your throat. Fuck, it felt good, but you weren’t close enough yet.

“ _ Maybe I’ll get that scream I wanted after all,”  _ Michael mused, his large, slender form shuddering as he rubbed the tip of his cock over your folds, “ _ A desperate, needy little masochist aren’t you? You  _ **_want_ ** _ me to hurt you.” _

“H-h-hurt me...pl-plenty…” You barely managed to whimper, lifting your head to press it to the crook of his neck. All that beautiful blond hair like a curtain over his shoulder, a stark contrast from the sharp claws digging into your skin…

What did you want anymore? Something tender and warm, or him to mess you up? There was no middle ground, not with your mind this addled. You knew there was no hiding anything, not from him. This creature knew you were lonely, desperate for anything beyond the harsh human life that was laid before you. He knew you were far more attached to him than you’d admit, knew everything. If a human had such a power over you it would be horrifying, enough to make you just as afraid as Michael wanted. But he wasn’t human. And somehow that felt...safe.

Being with this creature made you feel safe. 

Michael didn’t openly comment on what you were thinking or feeling, if he could sense either at all. But his hands shifted, one grasping your leg and tilting until you were half turned, spread for his cock and now on your side. You blinked, turning to look up at his face and feeling a bit...woozy. Whenever he was at his peak, that energy surrounding him was a bit dizzying. Like Michael himself was warping ever so slightly in your vision. Those straw-blond ringlets almost seemed to curl and float, surrounding his face as those dark eyes met yours. No denying what’s was in those depths, frames by light-colored lashes.

Madness. And you adored that. The way it seemed to surround him, filled to the very brim and spilling out like a glass overflowing. Unable to stop yourself, you reached a hand up to his face, stroking over his cheek and lingering there. You have expected him to pull away, maybe to scowl or look annoyed by your advances, but the creature did neither. He merely grinned that cat and cream smile, sharp teeth peeking out as he drew your hand closer to kiss at the palm. 

That was what did you in. The stinging pain on your chest, pleasure growing below and that...stupid, tender little kiss on you hand.

“ _....Please.”  _ You whispered, voice soft and fervent. Pathetic really, but that’s how Michael liked things didn’t he?

He chuckled, low and reverberating before drawing a line with his tongue down to your wrist. Warm, wet...teasing. But there was some mercy in Michael after all, because he didn’t make you wait any further. 

A few heartbeats passed, and that free hand tilted your hips up a little further, allowing his cock to finally—blessedly— press its head against your entrance. Before you could take your next breath, the tip was spreading you and his length was fully seated inside your throbbing sheath. So deep...and easy slide with how drenched you were. It was everything you needed and more, a sob of relief breaking past your lips as you shuddered, arching into his thick length while the mass of tentacles made quick work of your clit. Those few weeks alone, all those hours left to your own devices  _ this is what you imagined, dreamed about.  _ Being with him again, feeling him inside. Michael hissed at the stimuli, his other hand wrapping around your head and tilting it back toward the floor, allowing him to bury his face in your neck and bite. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to deliciously sting.

His hips started to thrust against you, pressing his cock deeper before retreating back enough to repeat over and over. Hard, unrelenting in his pace to find release. You wanted it that way, wanted to walk away from this spent and aching. He had you right where he wanted you, one hand wrapped around your neck and face, the other firmly clasped on your right thigh to keep it pressed back. The hallway was now filled with the lewd sounds of his cock fucking your wet heat, blended with each whimpering gasp you could manage whilst also trying to  _ breathe.  _ Each thrust pressed right where you needed him to be, and with those tentacles paying very close attention to your clit...there was no way you could last like this, not by a long shot. It was all you could do to try and prolong the experience, eyes squeezed shut and body desperately trying not to cum if only to feel him just a bit longer. 

Michael’s moans were always interesting to hear. Like his laughs, they were strangely ethereal, muffled by your skin but still managing to echo through the space. They were breathy and short, punctuated by the occasional, almost manic laughter when you gave him just the reactions he was seeking. His claws clasped harder into your thigh, sinking into supple flesh and shooting pain through your nerves. You grit your teeth, tears instinctively springing from your eyes despite just how  _ good  _ it felt, that deep, blossoming pain as it stimulated your body along with his cock. Surely new scars would be left from these, not that you minded--there were plenty on your hips already, Michael’s way of showing he owned you. Each one made a beautiful canvas across your flesh, once bare and empty save for the occasional childhood scar. 

It wasn’t the only scratch he left. As he continued to fuck you senseless his claws would pepper another on your thigh, then your hips, your stomach. Until it stopped hurting at all, your mind not registering that sting and warm flash of blood as it trickled down. Any more and he might risk you losing too much blood, but christ you couldn't even begin to care. And he knew it--knew you would happily die there if he so wished it with no complaint.  


“ _ Beg me,”  _ His inhuman voice rasped in your ear as he turned you again, your face now pressed back to the carpet as he fucked you from behind. The position made you choke out a gasp, his hard length so deep that you could have sobbed with relief, “ **_Silly_ ** _ girl. Foolish--masochistic, sweet little thing--you know I could-I could _ **_kill you_ ** _. You know that I--I could end your life right here, could bleed you dry, could--” _

He was babbling, almost incoherent as he drew closer and closer to release. As he spoke the sharp, clawed thumb of his hand slipped into your mouth, right against the tongue where he pressed ever so slightly. You whimpered in response, tasting a bit of your own blood on the digit as you pressed back against his cock.

“Pl-pl-please... _ Michael.. _ . _ Please _ I’m so...so close...I’m…” Your voice was slurred, tone desperate and filled with want. Right on the cusp of orgasm, so deliciously close and practically throbbing with pleasure as it built in your core. 

Michael let out a low hum of pleasure, pressing harder against you to grind his cock against your inner walls. The ridges underneath his hard length stimulated right where you needed it, a choked scream of pleasure muffled against the carpet as the first throbbing waves of your orgasm started to crest.

“ _ Just like that,”  _ Michael breathed in your ear, sounding almost gleeful as your cries started to dissolve into low whimpers. Music to his ears, “ _ So tight-- _ **_drenched_ ** _. I so enjoy that--seeing you fall to pieces. Mine, absolutely  _ **_mine._ ** _ Ahh...I’m going to fill you up, going to...to…”  _

His words trailed off into something far more incoherent as his teeth sank into your right shoulder, wringing another sharp cry from your lips just as his hot cum started to flood your sheath. His form rippled all the way along his spine, those blond ringlets hanging by your head as he emptied himself entirely, one hand still digging its claws into your hip. It was warm, the sensation downright pleasant. It was all you could do to go limp, letting him hold you up as the last tremors of pleasure started to fade, replaced instead by the feeling of being filled to the brim. Absolutely dizzy, spent and stinging all over...Just how you wanted to be. The events from the day simply faded away in that moment, fuzzy like static compared to what was happening in this creature's domain--reality was always so dull compared to any time spent with Michael.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, his chest rising and falling against your back with slowing breaths and blood trickling onto the floor in red rivets. The day’s exhaustion must have caught up at some point, coupled with the minor blood loss and exertion because you faded out for a few moments. You didn’t feel when Michael finally retreated from you, licking his claws of your blood and brushing damp hair from your face. Nor did you feel when he lifted you up from the floor, carrying you out of his domain and back into the apartment where the air was far cooler and clearer.  __ That’s around where you faded back in, shivering at the sensation of something warm tracing the line of your cuts, tasting the blood before bandages were applied to each. 

On your bed again, the sheets cool and comfortable after being on his floor. You blearily blinked your eyes open, seeing your room with faint light streaming through from the living room lamp just enough to illuminate Michael’s form. No longer elongated like a monster--he was humanoid now, finishing up wrapping your thigh with a look of concentration on his face. As a human, he was fairly average, closer toward handsome. With a round face and blond ringlets that touched his shoulders, but still carrying an air of something not quite human. His gaze lifted when you started to stir, meeting your eyes with a bemused smirk on his lips. 

He stroked one of his humanoid hands over your thigh, but...it still strangely felt like the long, bony fingers of a monster. Just an illusion, it would seem.

“ _ You look absolutely knackered, pet,”  _ He mused, leaning over your for to press a small kiss to your lips, “ _ Certainly can’t imagine why--though I will say...I am very happy that I got the scream I wanted.” _

You snorted at that, pressing a hand against his face to push him away and earning one of those eerie giggles. But before he could pull away entirely, you slid that hand down to his, holding him back for just a moment next to the bed. Reality was settling in just a bit, reminding you of all those days he spent gone, leaving you to wonder if he would return or if you were simply going mad. He paused, eyes shifting your way as if he could sense the very thought of it, glinting with the very madness he carried within himself.

“...Will you leave again?” You whispered, trying not to sound too woeful about the fact, but failing miserably. The idea of spending another two weeks alone seemed incredibly dreadful, downright agonizing if you were being honest. Far too attached to him, even if he came and went as he pleased.

But much to your surprise, Michael smirked, looking quietly bemused and a bit thoughtful as he lifted your hand to his mouth for a kiss. Even in this humanoid form, those eyes of him glowed in the dark, clearly not that of any normal creature.

“ _ I think I’ve tormented the Archivist quite enough for this week,” _ He hummed, sound very amused with his own actions, “ _ I think I’ll have you entertain me a while longer, silly girl.” _

You let out a relieved sigh, curling onto your side and wincing at the stinging pain of the claw-marks he left behind. But the exhaustion was far too long to fight it anymore, and with the creature known as Michael still holding your hand, you finally drifted to sleep, body deliciously spent.


End file.
